A Tale of Soujirou 3: Question and Answer
by Aaerdan
Summary: Seta Soujirou returns to Tokyo to seek out Himura Kenshin.


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The characters in this tale belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki. The events in this tale take place after those of **The journey begins** and **Give and Take**, and continues with **The Answer**. Many thanks for all the constructive feedback!  
  
This tale is dedicated to Aredhel.**  
  
_ Question and Answer_****  
  
By Daniel Lam  
  
**IT HAD been years since he last stepped foot in this city - things hadn't changed much. Then, as they did now, the streets teemed with life even after sunset.  
  
He walked slowly past the shops, stopping now and then to peer inside. But he saw no sign of the man he was looking for. No matter. He knew where to go ..._  
  
I'm not exactly in a hurry,_ the man thought.  
  
He sensed the men first, their criminal intent like a beacon in the dark. He might have welcomed their attention, years ago, when he was still out to prove himself. Not this night. He needed to conserve his energy for the meeting.  
  
They trailed him for some time. He had no desire for conflict; not today. The man realised his attempts to avoid one have come to naught when he walked into a blind alley - they had manoeuvred him into a _cul de sac_.  
  
"What's in that bag?" demanded the biggest of the lot, a brute whose centipede-like scar on his face could be seen clearly in the moonlight.  
  
Typical of such petty criminals, they out-numbered him at least 20 to one. Was the fact that he was carrying something precious that obvious?  
  
"It is nothing worthy of your notice," he replied with a smile. "Just some personal effects."  
  
"Oh yeah? Do you think we're stupid?" Scarface declared, eyes on a corner of the bundle.  
  
The man sighed. He thought that he had been careful to wrap the katana under layers of cloth - but the pommel could be seen peeking out. It was a wonder he hadn't been stopped by the police for violating the sword-ban.  
  
"Hand that over and we won't hurt you ... much," Scarface said. It was not an offer.  
  
The man shook his head. "This is not for you."  
  
Scarface laughed; the rest followed. "Well, you've got balls ... but I know someone who'd pay good money for a good blade. Now..." He extended his hand.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I cannot comply."  
  
Scarface shrugged. "Too bad then. Boys!"  
  
Som of the men drew knives, the rest were already brandishing clubs. The man did not move.  
  
"I do not wish to fight you."  
  
"Who says you will?" Scarface retorted. It was the cue his men were waiting for, and they charged.  
  
They saw the man close his eyes. And vanish.  
  
While his men stood, bewildered, Scarface drew his swordstick and struck at the air on his left. There was a loud clang of metal against metal.  
  
The man now held the katana that blocked the swordstick. In his other hand was the scabbard. His bundle, now open, lay on the ground.  
  
"You are fast ... but I have fought the likes of you before. It will be a pleasure killing you tonight," Scarface said, pulling back.  
  
The katana unsheathed, Scarface could tell that it was a weapon of great craftsmanship. It would be worth a lot.  
  
He held his sword over his head with both hands. "Hideo Tanaka of Satsuma, formerly of the Shinsengumi's first unit."  
  
When his opponent did not respond, he smirked and lunged forward.  
  
Again, the man did not move until, it seemed, the very last moment. Even then, he did not seem to have moved at all. He merely vanished, and Hideo's swordstick cut into the wall behind.  
  
The man now stood behind Hideo, who sidestepped to the left to avoid a strike that never came.  
  
"Die!" Hideo growled, and charged. Again he struck naught but thin air.  
  
The man sheathed the katana. "Please, let me go. I am late-"  
  
"Too bad, then ... men, kill him!"  
  
The thugs rushed forward.  
  
There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but the man was otherwise expressionless as he drew his sword.  
  
The grunts of the men quickly became cries of terror. The sounds of running feet were replaced with those of men falling in rapid succession.  
  
Moments later, the man knelt by Hideo. "I'll have you know, I take no pleasure from this," he whispered.  
  
He got up and walked away.  
  
Hideo lay immobile. Inexplicable images swirled and flashed in his mind as he struggled to keep his grasp on consciousness.  
  
Then his eyes shot open.  
  
"No, it can't be ... Hitokiri Battousai? But Battousai had a scar in the form of a cross on his left cheek ... and hair the colour of blood.  
  
"This one ... had none of those...." 

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It was perhaps midnight by the time he reached the Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu dojo. There were sounds from within, of people arguing. It didn't sound like they were angry. It was late, but evidently the occupants were still awake.  
  
He rapped on the door, gently at first, then a little harder when there was no response.  
  
A teenager with hair that looked desperately in need of taming appeared, lantern in hand.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Good evening ... sorry for disturbing you at this late hour. Is this the residence of Mr Himura Kenshin?"  
  
The teenager looked a little wary, but the door opened a little wider. The light of the lantern fell on the visitor's face. It was a kindly, youthful face graced by a wide smile.  
  
"Well, yes," the youth said finally. "You are a friend of his?"  
  
The visitor didn't look like someone with bad intentions, and the youth did not sense anything sinister about him.  
  
The visitor bowed. "We have met a number of times ..."  
  
Someone - a child - was shouting further inside. The youth frowned. "Well, he's not here right now. If you like, you are welcome to wait inside till he comes back."  
  
The man bowed again. "I would be grateful indeed, Mr-"  
  
"I'm Myoujin Yahiko ... you can call me Yahiko," the youth responded, motioning for the man to step inside.  
  
The child was still making a din.  
  
The man made to introduce himself, but Yahiko interrupted quickly: "Make yourself at home ... I have to go and see to that brat!"  
  
The youth then ran off, leaving the man to close the door and follow in his footsteps. He took his time, looking about._  
  
So this is where Mr Himura lives,_ he thought.  
  
It was indeed an infant - no more than two years old - who was making all that noise. Yahiko was trying desperately to calm him down.  
  
Noting the crimson tuft of hair, the man asked: "This boy, he is Mr Himura's son?"  
  
Yahiko nodded. "His name is Kenji. It's that obvious, huh? Not many people have such hair colour. Too bad he didn't inherit Kenshin's disposition."  
  
The man grinned. He had heard about how cheerful a person Kenshin was ... although the last few times they met, years ago, Kenshin was anything but cheery.  
  
Yahiko lifted Kenji onto his shoulders and started running around the room. The infant's cries turned to chortles of glee.  
  
Yahiko ran to the man's side. "By the way, I didn't get your name just now ... it's this kid, you know. Always a handful, like his mother."  
  
The man nodded. "Kamiya Kaoru? I have never met her before, but I know who she is. My name is-"  
  
He sensed someone approaching. Someone with a very strong aura.  
  
The door made little sound as it slid open. Yahiko, now winded with all that running, marched straight up to the arrivals.  
  
"Here's your brat! Next time you want a babysitter, get someone else! He's almost as bad as you, old hag!" Yahiko grumbled as he handed to child to the couple.  
  
The woman whom the insult was directed was too distracted with the infant to mount a proper retort. The man who was with her however, was not so easily distracted.  
  
"Miss Kaoru, please take Kenji," he whispered, eyes on the man kneeling in the middle of the room.  
  
Yahiko suddenly remembered. "Oh, Kenshin, you have a visitor," he said, gesturing at the man.  
  
"Mr Himura, it has been a long time," the man began, smiling. "You are doing very well, I see."  
  
Kenshin nodded. As had been the case when he first met this man, at the time a mere teenager, Kenshin was unable to sense his emotions. He knelt opposite him.  
  
Kaoru caught Kenshin's expression. The thickening tension in the air was unmistakable.  
  
"I'll go make some tea. Yahiko, come-!"  
  
For once, Yahiko, who sensed something too, obeyed without protest.  
  
Alone now, Kenshin turned to face the man. "You look well, Soujirou." He noted speckles of blood on Seta Soujirou's shirt.  
  
The man saw the stains. He bowed. "I have been around ... seeking an answer to-"  
  
"The purpose of life. You have found it?"  
  
Soujirou removed the katana and drew the sword. Kenshin did not move ... his eyes did not leave Soujirou's. Then he looked at the sword.  
  
The blade had serrated edges like a saw, and the grease stains of all the people whose lives were taken with it still marked the entire length.  
  
"Mugenjin ... Shishio's katana," Kenshin said finally.  
  
The brother-sword of Kenshin's reversed blade katana. Both the last, and best, creations of the legendary swordsmith Arai Shakku.  
  
Mugenjin - the Killing Sword, used by Shishio Makoto, and the Sakabatou - the Sword That Cannot Kill, wielded by Himura Kenshin. Both former Ishin Shishi master assassins, but who took diametrically-opposed paths at the end of the Bakumatsu, 17 years ago.  
  
Unconsciously, Kenshin's hand moved to the hilt of his Sakabatou.  
  
Soujirou rose, then with slow but precise movements, knelt before Kenshin and presented the Mugenjin to him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I found this in the ruins of Master Shishio's base. It rightly belongs to you, Mr Himura."  
  
Kenshin did not take the offered blade. "No ... this one has no need of it, I say. The time ... for Mugenjin is long past."  
  
Soujirou nodded. "Yet it is with you, the blade you wield, and Mugenjin that my answer lies, Mr Himura. I have spent these past five years wandering, and this I have concluded: I cannot move on without first burying my past."  
  
He paused. "I began _this_ life as an unwanted child, bullied by my adopted family. If not for Master Shishio's gift of a wakizashi and his philosophy - that the strong live, the weak die - I would not have lived. This life began with _violence_...  
  
"I have wandered far, Mr Himura. I have thought long and hard." Soujirou added. "This is how I must begin to live a new life."  
  
As Soujirou voice trailed into silence, Kenshin sensed ... a hint of sorrow. It was a hazy, uncertain, whisper of an emotion exuded by someone who had lived for too long without emotion.  
  
Slowly, Kenshin nodded. He knew now what Soujirou was asking of him. He took the Mugenjin ... it felt strangely familiar, yet alien to him.  
  
Soujirou drew back. Kenshin held the Mugenjin aloft, then unsheathed the Sakabatou. For both men, both blades seemed to be singing, calling to each other.  
  
Then, with a cry from Kenshin, the Sakabatou clove the Mugenjin in two.  
  
The sight that Kaoru beheld when she ran into the room, was that of two men bowing to each other.  
  
In Kenshin's hand was the Sakabatou. On the floor was a katana, now broken in two. 

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"You will not stay, even for a while longer?"  
  
Soujirou shook his head. He regarded the man who had _freed_ him.  
  
"If I start anew now, I may finally find the answer that I seek ... in under 10 years."  
  
"You have changed a lot since our last encounter, Soujirou, I say." Kenshin smiled. When the younger man did not respond, he added: "We will be seeing you again, then?"  
  
Soujirou took up the bundle, within which nestled the broken Mugenjin. "I don't know. I must return to Kyoto first. Maybe..."  
  
He hesitated. "I thank you, Mr Himura. Please convey my regards to Miss Kaoru, Mr Yahiko and young Kenji."  
  
"This one will. Take care, Soujirou."  
  
The younger man smiled broadly. Then he turned and walked away.  
  
Kenshin waited until Soujirou's figure vanished into the morning's fog.  
  
"Farewell. May you find what you seek, Tenken." 


End file.
